


Impossibly Bright & Heartbreakingly Innocent

by exquisitelymorose



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum
Genre: F/F, I mean, Morality, gay struggle, its gay, sexuality struggle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 18:11:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16500242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exquisitelymorose/pseuds/exquisitelymorose
Summary: "When Lana wonders how Mary Eunice would feel if she ever found out what goes through her mind on the late nights when she feels weak, she thinks she’d feel a lot like that little girl behind the oak tree in the schoolyard. Objectified, a little betrayed. In the former nuns mind, maybe a lot betrayed."This explores Lana's fraught feelings toward Mary Eunice in a world where Mary Eunice survived an exorcism and through a series of circumstances, came to live with Lana.





	Impossibly Bright & Heartbreakingly Innocent

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in a world where Mary Eunice survived an exorcism and through a series of circumstances, came to live with Lana.

She knows it’s wrong. That of all the things she could do, all the thoughts she could have, this is probably the worst. But, Lana thinks, she’s only human after all. And most of them time, she doesn’t think she’s one of the good ones. She doesn’t want to blame Mary Eunice, not like a man would do. It’s not the blondes’ fault that Lana has these feelings or these “compulsions,” as some might say. But on the nights where they share a bed, a sleeping Mary Eunice’s hand splayed innocently over Lana’s hip, cuddled into the body that’s become her comfort, somehow a sense of home, she feels that twinge of resentment, with a paint stripe of anger, a bigger slash of guilt sprayed over it all. She thinks of the Mary Eunice she knows existed just a few months ago, in a brilliantly red negligee, morally bankrupt. She imagines the work those sinful lips would do, how those hands would move. She has to wonder if Mary Eunice, the real one, not the demon inside of her, felt any of it. She knows the woman doesn’t remember it so none of it really matters. It wasn’t her anyways, it wasn’t the woman she’s fallen in love with. 

Lana thinks of a time in middle school when her best friend, Sarah, was taken behind the old oak tree in the school yard to have her first kiss with the class clown, Johnny. She’d stood and waited in the biting fall air, clutching thick notebooks and a geography text book to her chest. She could see bits of Sarah’s dress and one of Johnny’s hands pressed casually against the tree but she couldn’t bring herself to stare too hard. It was in these moments she realized something was undoubtedly _wrong_ with her. She didn’t want what Sarah wanted, to be pressed up against a tree by some eager young boy. The thought nearly twisted her stomach. When Sarah came back, beaming and pink cheeked, she nearly squealed with delight in Lana’s face. But then she was whispering and just barely pointing to where Johnny had joined a group of his friends near the bicycle rack.

“Nicholas likes you.” The words come from Sarah’s chapped lips in a quick hush. 

But Lana can’t think of what to say, her eyes only widen. She knew who Nicholas was, of course, they’d been going to school together since the 1st grade. But that was just it, she knew him and she knew him well, she thought. The idea that he liked her in this way that all the boys seemed to be liking the girls now, it made no sense to her. It seemed sudden and confusing. Lana didn’t feel anything for him.

Sarah prods her again, “Johnny says that if you want, Nicholas will take you behind the tree.”

Even at 12 Lana is feisty. She talks back on the playground, she raises eyebrows at teachers and never do the blonde, “popular” girls mess with Lana or her friends. She’s tough. She knows who she is. But in this moment, she is at a loss. She knows what she’s supposed to do. Yet she doesn’t want to do it at all. So with a dry throat, she barely musters a nod and watches as Sarah nods back, a little too excited, in Johnny’s direction. 

Lana’s eyes flicker toward Nicholas but he isn’t looking at her. He’s giving another boy a sly high five as he stalks toward the oak tree. Before Lana can begin what feels to be the mile walk toward the tree, Sarah pulls her into a hug. 

“Lana! Our first kisses, on the same day!” The words come out in an excited burst of air in Lana’s ear. The scent of Sarah’s bubble gum and her breath against Lana’s cheek fill her stomach with something that feels a lot like butterflies. She ignores the feeling, squeezes her best friend tightly and then let’s go, feeling utterly alone as she walks toward the tree. 

When she rounds the trunk, Nicholas is on the other side, blowing his breath into his palm. Even then, Lana feels that this all so juvenile. Fraught but unnecessary. She just wants to leave, to walk home with Sarah and talk about the upcoming class play. But Nicholas is shoving his hands in his pocket, darting his eyes from side to side and he looks so nervous that Lana can’t help but think of him, 8 years old and hiding his face in embarrassment from the class after accidentally calling their teacher, “mom.” Suddenly she feels so bad for him that she backs herself up against the tree without a word and closes her eyes. She doesn’t think there’s all that much to say. 

When it happens, it’s quick. His lips are rough and chapped and they hit hers so hard, his nose smashing hers to the left side of her face. She wonders, idly, as she opens her eyes if it’ll leave a bruise. Johnny is wide eyed in front of her, as if he’s surprised at what he’s done.

“Happy?” she asks. 

He nods slowly, shoving his hands in his pockets. She turns to walk away when he says her name with a small yelp. He’s biting his lower lip when she turns back, “I think you’re the prettiest girl in our class.”

She closes her eyes for a moment, tries desperately to find a way to take the compliment and turn it into something that makes her feel nice, makes her feel pretty. Makes her feel anything, really. But Johnny takes the moment, her eyes closed, and lays another kiss on her unexpectedly. This one lasts a little longer and she can really feel the roughness of his lips. He pulls away and his sour breath lingers in her nose. When she opens her eyes, he’s nearly running back in the direction of the boys. They all exchange grins and words she can’t hear. That’s when Lana, 12 years old, realizes what becoming a woman will mean. Men are going to look at her and decide that she’s the prettiest girl they’ve ever seen, they’re going to think about what it might be like to kiss her, they’ll do things to her in their minds. And there’s nothing she’ll be able to do about it. She looks to her shoes and tries her damnedest not lose her lunch all over the hard, black tops. 

When Lana wonders how Mary Eunice would feel if she ever found out what goes through her mind on the late nights when she feels weak, she thinks she’d feel a lot like that little girl behind the oak tree in the schoolyard. Objectified, a little betrayed. In the former nuns mind, maybe a lot betrayed. When they’re watching their nightly programs, bumping a hip just trying to cook dinner, passing each other in the hallway and Lana catches sight of the younger woman’s smile, impossibly bright and heartbreakingly innocent, she feels downright criminal. She smiles back and digs her nails deep into her palm. Even the night that it’s dark and stormy and Mary Eunice cries out and Lana goes to her and holds her. Even when the blonde bumps her nose against Lana’s, in a flurry of tears and fear and desperation and maybe just maybe, a genuine want, trying to find the older woman’s lips. Not even then does Lana shatter. She holds strong, tips her head in the opposite direction and strokes the blondes back. She’s not going to be a Johnny or a Nicholas or an Oliver Thredson. Not to Mary Eunice.

The next morning, when the younger woman comes to her with downcast eyes and a shoulder slope that looks a lot like shame, Lana feels a twinge of regret. Mary Eunice apologizes for trying what she did. Trying to kiss Lana. And it makes the brunettes stomach feel sour and rotten because she knows if the woman standing a few feet from her knew how she felt, knew what she thought about, she’d never apologize. At least if Lana had ducked her head and claimed her lips like she’d wanted to, she’d be the one who had to apologize. And that feels like it makes a lot more sense. Instead she gives a curt nod and tells Mary Eunice that it’s alright, that she knows what it’s like to seek safety in other people. 

They’re living together for 8 months when Mary Eunice tries to crack Lana and the older woman is embarrassed more than anything because she thinks she should’ve seen it coming. It’s the investigative journalists way. But when her roommate, companion, friend comes to her late in the afternoon on a Sunday, she’s blindsided. 

“Lana,” when she looks up from the column she’s working on, Mary Eunice is in the doorway, hands clasped, eyes to her feet, “can I ask you something? 

“Of course.”

Just then her dark eyes meet lighter ones as Mary Eunice looks up through her growing, blonde fringe, “Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“What?” Lana thinks her tone comes out a little too strong.

“I just – I wonder sometimes if I make you uncomfortable.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, I feel happy here with you. And comfortable! Because of that, sometimes I think I do things without thinking about them. Like grabbing your hand or sitting too close when we watch our shows. And I know that after that night you probably think th-” her words are tumbling out in a quick mumble and Lana finally raises a hand to silence her.

“Mary, it’s okay.” Lana has a way with words but with this she fails so she says the only thing she can think to, “you do not make me uncomfortable.” 

A small silence passes and when Mary Eunice opens her mouth to protest, Lana beats her to it, “you do not make me uncomfortable. Do you understand?”

After a moment the blonde nods. Lana notices her swallow and the way she nods, almost as if to herself and it seems she’s going to turn and walk away but then she squares her shoulders and speaks resolutely, “then why won’t you ever touch me?”

And there it is. Lana almost smiles because Mary Eunice, quiet, sheepish, Mary Eunice has come so far in the last few months that she can find it within herself to ask for answers when she wants them. It’s quite the privilege to be a spectator of her spectacular growth but that doesn’t distract Lana from the question at hand. 

“I do touch you?”

The blonde just shakes her head a little, “only when I touch you.”

Lana looks at her hands in her own lap. This is always where she fails because there is no way she can win. If she lies and says she’s just not like that or that she doesn’t want to, Mary Eunice’s semblance of home and comfort will shatter. She’ll cower alone in bed when the darkness is just too much, rather than allow Lana to hold her. She’ll sit on the opposite end of the couch leaving the space next to Lana too cold and empty during their TV time. They’ll never again share a bed just because, only to wake up to find themselves wrapped in each other. But if she tells her the truth, that she just can’t bring herself to have these small moments, knowing how she feels, then Mary Eunice will know what kind of monster she is. And she won’t understand. She’ll look at Lana like she’d looked at many of the men in her life, thinking it’s about control. It’s not. Lana could control herself, she’d proven that to herself and Mary Eunice time and time again. She was just trying desperately not to break her own heart. 

“I’m-” Lana tries but she doesn’t know where she’s going, “I just might not be as physically affectionate as you. I think things changed a little… after _it_ happened.” She sees a small horror flash in Mary Eunice’s eyes and makes a quick move to correct herself, “but that’s okay. You never make me feel uncomfortable. You make me feel safe too. It’s just a me thing. I don’t want you to worry about it.” 

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?’

Lana nearly breaks. “You never could.”


End file.
